


Red and Blue - Klance stories and oneshots

by ilse_writes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Game of Thrones References, Klance AU Month, KlanceyMay2019, Klanceymay, Leith - Freeform, M/M, Most of the oneshots are connected, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), The whole gang together, klance, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-02-28 23:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18766516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes
Summary: This book is based on the prompts that Creantzy (Instagram) created for their Klancey May AU month. I'll follow the prompts (one for every two days) as well as I can, although I don't have the time to write and publish on schedule.  I just thought it would make a fun writing exercise. And I really like the dynamics between Keith and Lance from Voltron, so there's that too :-)I'll try to keep most of the prompts in the same college-AU, so the oneshots can be stringed together to a bigger story.Expect fluff, blossoming relationships and a little bit of angst.The prompts for Klancey May 2019 (by Creantzy):1. selfie3. school5. first kiss7. movie night9. rain11. webcomic au13. pining15. meme / vine17. game au (of your choice)19. wearing your outfits21. wedding23. Klance in your town25. Angst27. Stars29. On vacation31. Whatever you wantPlease don't copy or steal my work.





	1. May 1 - Selfie

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to use the same AU for most of the oneshots, so I can string them together.
> 
> Because of work, family and life in general I will not update on schedule. I'll update as much as possible though!

The coffee shop on the campus of Altea University is filled with quiet chatter. Keith is slouched over the table, his hands folded around his coffee cup. His arms are shoved so far up the table he can touch the back of Pidge’s laptop if he flexes his fingers. Not that he does. He knows better than to touch her stuff.

It’s the end of a long week. Keith had to turn in a paper this morning, on which he worked until about 3 AM. Not that he started too late, he’s usually not one to postpone this kind of things, it was just… difficult. And he was distracted. 

Pidge has her own paper to work on. Something with too many numbers to make sense anymore. Yet she is diligently tapping away on the keyboard of her laptop. 

“When was your deadline again?” 

“Noon. So I’ve still got two hours,” she answers, not looking up from her screen. 

“Your professors keep way better hours than mine,” Keith sighs. He had to turn in his paper - personally - at 8 AM this morning. Professor Iverson is old-fashioned and strict, a total hardliner. 

The bell above the door tingles and a loud laugh disturbs the peace in the coffee shop. Keith braces himself for the inevitable. A moment later Lance slides in the booth next to him, his right arm already outstretched to sling over Keith’s shoulders. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” he calls out playfully, holding his phone out with his other arm. The screen is angled to their faces and Keith sees how the actual embodiment of sunshine - tanned skin, sparkling blue eyes, dazzling smile - is in stark contrast with his own appearance. Dark rings under his eyes make his skin look even paler, and he didn’t bother with his hair other than taming it with a thin elastic band that keeps the bangs out of his face.

“Smile to the camera!” 

Keith scowls, flipping the camera off. 

Lance doesn’t care. The arm around Keith’s shoulders disappears and Lance uses both hands to upload the picture to his Instagram account. His thumbs fly over the screen, typing a message and attaching a load of hashtags. Keith doesn’t bother to look at Lance’s phone, instead he focuses on their friend Hunk, who approaches their booth with two cups of coffee in his hands.  
The lanky Cuban boy loudly declares his love for Hunk and the beverage he brings, no doubt some crazy concoction with way too much sugar, hardly any coffee and an impossibly long name. 

“Coran says hi,” Hunk says to Lance, sitting down in the booth next to Pidge. “He also said he very much enjoyed your Instagram stories of the past two days. He’s flattered you like his moustache over the one of the walrus.”

A broad grin spreads over Lance’s face, making his already present smile even wider. “Cheebo was the best,” he says fondly, “but nothing beats that orange handlebar of Coran!”

“What the fuck kind of name is Cheebo?” Keith scoffs, taking another sip of his coffee. 

Lance turns to him in equal parts of faked and real astonishment. “Excuse me?! Don’t you go insulting my baby!”

Pidge looks up from her screen, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “You call a 2.000 lb walrus baby?”

“Don’t you dare call Cheebo fat!” Lance shakes his finger at her in warning, though Pidge only rolls her eyes and turns back to her screen. 

“I thought Cheebo was a very good-looking walrus, buddy,” Hunk offers with a smile. He has his arm up on the booth behind Pidge, keeping an eye on her screen. He no doubt understands all the technical gibberish that makes up her paper.

“Why, thank you!” Lance exclaims dramatically, as if defending the honour of a walrus is of the utmost importance.   
He whips out his phone again. “Wait, I’ll show you what a stunner Cheebo is! And by the way, Cheebo is a perfectly good name,  _ Keef _ .”

“Still sounds like Kirby’s fat cousin to me,” Keith shrugs, ignoring the maltreatment of his own name. 

Lance makes a not so dignified sound, something that no doubt has to convey how far off the truth Keith is with his assessment of the walrus. The Cuban boy scrolls through his phone, colourful thumbnails speeding over the screen. He stops at a picture Keith recognises from his Instagram feed from two days ago.   
“Here, look at this! We only met five minutes before and he already high fived me! I’m telling you, this big animal loved me at first sight!” 

Keith is treated to a hour by hour replay of Lance’s stay at the marine rescue center he visited this week with his study group. The boy shows him all the pictures he took there, most of them selfies of Lance, interrupted by more serious pictures he no doubt needs for his assignment.  
The selfies aren’t new to Keith. He has seen them all on Lance’s Instagram account. Not that Lance knows that. He takes care to click those hearts only every once in a while, preferably when it’s a silly picture of Lance doing something dumb.  
He would love to like every picture of Lance, especially the ones that show of his lithe physique. God knows he already spends way too much time secretly ogling the boy’s account, even though he makes fun of Lance for taking so much selfies whenever he sees him in real life. 

“I think you saw this one, right?” Lance says, his thumb hovering over a picture of Lance dangling a dead fish above his opened mouth.  
“Yeah,” he nods to himself. “You dared me to swallow it.”

Keith scoffs, remembering his comment from the other day. “I still think it would be a healthier meal choice than your usual dietary preferences.”

Lance bumps his shoulder. “Hey! Pizza is a vegetable!” 

Keith wants to say something snappy back, yet his mind goes completely blank when he sees the next picture. He knows that picture by heart and at the same time it seems different from the one he has saved to his phone. The angle is a little off. As Lance’s thumb swipes the picture away, the mystery is quickly solved. There are at least six pictures of Lance with his wetsuit peeled down to his hips, posing next to a vending machine, pointing out a particular flavour of Doritos. Clearly he chose the one he liked best to post on his Instagram feed. The one Keith kept staring at last night.

“Can you believe I only discovered this treasure an hour before we had to leave?” Lance pouts, zooming in on the image until the bag of Doritos is in full view. “They don’t have this flavour anywhere on campus!”  
Lance sighs. “I just  _ had _ to buy all six bags, I couldn’t help myself. It just tastes so good!”

The picture goes back to its normal size and Keith swallows heavily when Lance’s bare chest comes into view again.   
“I bet it does…”


	2. May 3 - School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids have an exam tomorrow.

**To Pidge.** Thursday 04:28 PM.  _ Need anything from the store? _

**To Keith.** Thursday 04:30 PM.  _ Nope, I’m good.  _

**To Keith.** Thursday 04:31 PM.  _ Doritos. Spiciest they’ve got. _

**To Pidge.** Thursday 04:33 PM.  _ You got a death wish? Ok. Whatever. It’s your funeral. _

 

Keith finishes his hunt for groceries by dropping a XXL bag of peanut M&M’s on top of the requested Doritos in his basket. They’re his roommate’s drug of choice; if she hasn’t already emptied the last bag, she will in the foreseeable future. A.k.a. somewhere tonight. Better to have a bag ready. He doesn’t want to deal with Pidge going cold turkey when he has an exam the next day.

With a bunch of food to keep himself and his roommate content for a long night of studying, he returns to his dorm. It’s one of the newer buildings, on the edge of campus. This means it’s a five minute walk to the closest convenience store, yet he has to walk for nearly half an hour before he reaches the building where he has most of his classes. The dorm rooms have big windows and high ceilings to make up for that little inconvenience. Not that Keith really is bothered by the distance between his dorm and the place where he spends the majority of his days. The walk wakes him up in the morning and clears his head in the afternoon.

He opens the door to his room with his mind already on his exam for tomorrow, nearly tripping over a pair of sneakers right behind the door.   
“Damn it, Pidge! Don’t leave your shoes in front of the door!” 

The culprit in question doesn’t answer, nor does she show any kind of response. She is too wrapped up in whatever it is on her laptop, ears covered by her large headphone. She has made a cocoon of her blanket, sitting in the middle of her bed. Keith was right in bringing that extra bag of M&M’s.

“Oops, sorry, samurai. My bad.”   
The cheerful response comes from  _ his  _ side of the room, making Keith turn so fast he nearly gets whiplash. 

Sprawled out over his bed is Lance, laying on his back with a textbook held up above his face. 

“What are - “  
_ What are you doing on my bed? Why do you look so good in my bed? _

His words get cut off by the Cuban boy who lowers his book and simultaneously throws his feet of the bed to get up.  
“Did you bring the Doritos?”

_ Of - fucking - course. _ He could have known Lance was here. Who else would request spicy Doritos? Keith delves into his bag and tosses his friend the chips. 

“Muchas gracias, hermano!” Lance immediately tears into the bag, stuffing his face with the crispy triangles.   
“Brainfood!” he exclaims, tiny bits of Doritos flying through the air. 

“Don’t get that junk in my bed,” Keith grouses, tossing the blanket covered gremlin on his other side the bag of M&M’s. 

She  _ does _ react this time, snatching the bag and stashing it somewhere inside her blanket fort. “We are pleased with your offering,” she says daintily, deeming him worthy of a quick glance and a smirk.

“Sorry for hogging your bed,” Lance tells Keith in between bites of Doritos. “Queen of the nerds overthere kicked me to the floor.” 

“You were sticking your icy feet underneath my butt!”

“I have cold feet!” Lance exclaims. “Your butt is warm!”

“Not anymore, thanks to your icicle feet!”

Keith ignores their little spat and stuffs his food stash in his desk drawer, then he slumps down in his chair, turning it to face his laptop. In the reflection of his screen he can see Lance is lying down again. On his stomach this time, his book propped up against Keith’s pillow. One hand reaches into the bag of Doritos on regular intervals, the other is used to prop his head up.   
The reflection gets less clear when he opens the PDF of the syllabus he needs to know inside and out for tomorrow’s exam, Lance’s dark shape fading out against the white of the pages. 

The room falls back to a comfortable silence again, for which Keith is grateful. He really needs to study for his exam tomorrow and if Lance keeps quiet, he might be able to forget his crush is lying on his bed, just a few feet behind him. 

If Keith was a bolder man, he would have sat down on his bed with his laptop, much like Pidge is doing. He could pull his knees up to make room for Lance’s long legs going underneath them. Or he could just rest his legs on top of Lance’s calves. Or he could let Lance warm his feet underneath his thighs. They have the kind of friendship that he can do that; Lance and Hunk have certainly upped the level and amount of touches in their group of friends. 

It used to freak Keith out a little in the beginning, he certainly wasn’t used to the bro-hugs Hunk and Lance deal out on a daily basis. It comes so natural to those two that, first, there’s no escaping it, and second, it’s actually really nice. Once you get used to it, that is. And when you’re not crushing on one of the hug-givers. 

He can’t tell you when his crush started. It kinda creeped up on him, it was just suddenly  _ there _ . Keith found himself staring at Lance one time in the coffee shop, realising he had been staring at the boy  _ a lot _ lately. And that the funny feeling in his stomach whenever Lance smiled at him or just looked at him, was nothing but ordinary butterflies. It is a crush, as cliché of a crush as you can get. And Keith doesn’t mind one bit.

That doesn’t mean he’s gonna act on it though. 

To act on it would mean risking the friendship. It might even disrupt their whole dynamic as a group. And Keith doesn’t want to lose his friends, not when they feel like the family he never had when he was younger. 

So he stays in his desk chair, his back to Lance, forcing himself to concentrate on the material of his exam. He feels fairly confident for this one, though that is no guarantee for a good grade. 

At least twenty minutes go by before the silence in the room is disturbed by Lance getting up from the bed. He walks behind Keith, ruffling his hair playfully - unintentionally giving him a near heart attack - and gets on his knees in front of Pidge’s bed. Pidge lowers her headphones and a hushed conversation follows in which she answers Lance’s questions about statistics. That is why Lance is here, so Pidge can help him study. 

Keith watches Lance’s back, a small line of skin visible between the edge of his jeans and his hitched up hoodie. The Cuban boy leans on his elbows on the bed, listening intently to Pidge’s words.

Slowly, Keith’s heartbeat returns to a normal pace, no longer trying to gallop out of his chest because Lance touched his hair. 

When Lance returns to his spot on Keith’s bed, he makes sure to be looking at his laptop only, and not at the boy that so casually saunters right past him. There are no unexpected touches this time, no funny remarks. For all his loud and extrovert behaviour, Lance can be really quiet when he wants. He takes his studies seriously and respects that others need silence to study.

Others, that is Keith in this case. Pidge is one of those people that can completely shut the outside world out. You could put her in the middle of a crowded mall and she would still be able to write a thesis in under three hours. As long as she has her headphones and her laptop, she is fine.   
Keith prefers to study without music when he needs to absorb a lot of theory; otherwise the words of the songs will get interwoven with the words in his textbook. When he has more practical work to do though, he likes to listen to one of his many playlists.

Lance makes three trips across the room to get some help from Pidge before he closes his book with a smack. A loud yawn attracts Keith’s attention to the reflection in his laptop screen. Lance is stretching, sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms stretched out behind his head: one arm up and the other angled to help stretch the limb. First left, then right. 

His book ends up on the corner of Keith’s desk when Lance gathers his shoes together and slips his feet in. He turns back to grab the empty bag of Doritos, dropping it in the trash can on Keith’s side. 

Keith is not entirely ready for the hand that grips his shoulder, although he was already very much aware of Lance’s proximity.   
“How’s it going, samurai?” Lance’s question is quiet, attentive.

He shrugs, Lance’s hand moving with him. “It’s okay. I’m nearly finished with this syllabus and then I want to go over my notes.” 

“Okay, good luck tomorrow.” Lance squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll be going, I promised Hunk I’d join him for a late dinner in the cafeteria.”

“Say hi from me,” Keith says, daring to angle his face up to look at Lance. The side of his head brushes against the front of Lance’s hoodie, he is standing closer than Keith initially thought. 

He must have lost a few seconds, getting lost in those sparkling, blue eyes, because the next moment Lance is standing in the open doorway.   
“Bye guys! Thanks for the help, Pidge. And thanks for letting me hog your bed, samurai!”

Pidge grunts a goodbye and Keith manages to give a nod before Lance closes the door behind him. He blinks at his laptop, his mind stuck on the feeling of Lance’s hand on his shoulder, the soft fabric of his hoodie and the oceanic depths of his eyes. It takes him an embarrassing long time before he can make any sense of the letters on his screen again. 


	3. May 5 - First kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole group comes together at Coran's place to watch Game of Thrones. Lance decides to go for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of Game of Thrones season 8 references in here (episode 3). Spoiler alert!
> 
> Also, this chapter is closely linked to the next, because I combined the prompts for May 5 and May 7.

Lance watches Keith stand in front of a glass display cabinet in Coran’s living room, admiring the rock and mineral collection that’s inside. There’s all sorts of pretty rocks and minerals, in a whole rainbow of colours. Some of them Lance knows the name of, although most of ‘m look like they could be from outer space for all he knows. It’s an extraordinary collection and Lance also likes to admire it every time he’s here. There’s a room in Coran’s apartment that is completely dedicated to his hobby and only his most prized pieces are on show in the living room. These are the special ones: the most rare or most beautiful stones in his collection.

He pretends to watch Coran and Hunk mill around in the kitchen, leaning over the bar with high stools that separates the kitchen from the living room. In reality, he has his eyes on Keith.

His gaze follows the strong form of his legs, standing a little apart, up to his narrow waist, tapering out to firm shoulders. Keith is fit and strong, but not in the obvious way like his older brother. You have to look a little closer, pay a bit more attention. Something Lance is more than willing to do.

A little over to the side of the glass cabinet is a low bookcase, stuffed with books; they’re probably all about rocks, or space, two of Coran’s main interests. Keith shares one of them with the moustached man. If you get Keith a little warmed up he’ll tell you about the stuff he learns in class and he can have discussions with Coran and Pidge about astrophysics that leave Lance’s brain boggled. He likes it better when Keith gets really into the zone, mostly after the ingestion of some alcohol, when he starts talking about how he wants to explore space or about the existence of alien life. 

Keith is staring into the glass cabinet, shifting his weight slowly from one foot to the other, and back. He is doing it again: separating himself from the group because he has trouble with being idle, with being in a group while not having an active role. Lance sighs softly. Keith has been in their group for about a year now and he still isn’t completely comfortable. 

Hunk and Coran are busy making snacks, Shiro and Allura aren’t here yet and Pidge is bent on crushing the high score of some game on her phone. That leaves only him to do something about Keith’s unease.

As if he feels he is being watched, Keith turns his head to look over his shoulder. Lance catches his eyes and sends him a smirk.

Keith hesitates before the corners of his lips turn up in a shy smile. It feels a little like an invitation. It’s a fleeting moment, but Lance can see it in the way his eyes dart from him, to the cabinet and back.   
He likes to think he has a good read on his friend, being able to interpret his expressions separate from the words that come out of his mouth. Because although Keith’s words can have a lot of bite, that doesn’t mean there’s real fire behind them.  
He used to think Keith was always bitter and sarcastic; he didn’t like Keith very much when he first met him. Pidge introduced him to their friend group when Keith transferred to Altea from another university. The two of them had been friends since kindergarten and even though Lance already counted Keith’s older brother Shiro as one of his friends, he’d never met the younger sibling before.   
They butted heads a lot in the beginning, their personalities being on different sides of the spectrum. Where Lance is outgoing, Keith is an introvert. Where Lance is loud, Keith is quiet. Lance is generous with his laughs, Keith will only seldom laugh out loud.  
At some point they discovered they shared a sense of humour and a drive to be the best at what they do. Over time they basically got used to each other, finding out that maybe they’re not on opposites of a spectrum, but more like on two sides of the same coin. They no longer challenge each other for the purpose of defeat, they challenge the other to move forward. It’s all very adult-like of them, Lance is kinda proud of that.

Lately, his feelings towards Keith have evolved even more. He finds himself chasing for laughs out of Keith, on the lookout for the tell tale crinkles in the corners of his eyes, the small tilt of his lips. Lance likes to make all of his friends laugh, but Keith is more of a personal challenge. Keith’s laugh does something to his insides, making them all warm and gooey. His eyes can have the same effect, especially when Lance catches him looking when he thought he wouldn’t notice.

There have been a lot of those glances, enough to make Lance think his friend might have some interest in him. Sometimes he is able to catch a glance like that and hold it, if only for a couple of seconds. It’s like a little game, trying to lock eyes with Keith and convey a message. Lance isn’t quite sure yet what that message exactly entails from his own side, but it is warm and open and fond. That’s how his friend makes him feel, so why not share that with him?

Normally, Lance would need only a couple of those stolen glances before he would approach his target, turning on the infamous Loverboy Lance charm to bag himself some entertaining company for the night.  _ But this is Keith _ . The boy who has days where the scowl won’t leave his face, who has a temper and who has often enough criticised Lance’s flirty ways. It’s also the boy who has a fire within him, passionate and protective about the people and things he cares about. 

And he has a soft side, if you can come close enough to see it. He has the air of a loner, someone who doesn’t need anyone, yet Lance has seen his face when Hunk gives him a hug, or when Pidge sits close to him as they hunch together over the screen of Pidge’s phone to watch yet another Bigfoot video. Lance can pull those faces from him too, when he includes Keith in his physical shows of affection for his friends. Those soft, content expressions, with a layer of something  _ more  _ behind them. He’s discovered Keith colours from the neck up, the pink shade creeping up past his ears before flushing his cheeks.  _ Cute _ .

So Lance moves carefully when it comes to Keith. 

Which doesn’t mean he won’t take some chances every now and then, little pin pricks to see how far he can go.

He saunters over to the glass cabinet, sidling up with Keith. Their shoulders touch and when Lance lowers his arm he brushes his knuckles against the back of Keith’s hand. His friend moves his hand away quickly, a little startled if the parting of his lips and wide eyes are any indication. 

“My favourite is this one,” Lance says, pleased that Keith doesn’t move any further away from him. Lance gestures vaguely to a curiously formed rock at the bottom shelf, knowing Keith will have to lean in if he wants to see what Lance is pointing at. 

The stone is rather large and looks like soap bubbles stacked on top of each other, or a crude version of Barbapapa’s house. Instead of airy shapes, the round form is made up of rusty coloured stone, giving way to shades of copper, gold and oily hues where the surface is chipped away. Just by looking at it you know it will be heavy. It’s not the standard definition of pretty; it’s rough and jagged. Lance finds it intriguing. 

Keith moves closer, following the direction of Lance’s gaze to the dark rock.  “The meteor?” 

Lance nods eagerly. “Yes, the moon stone!”

“This one’s not from the moon,” Keith deadpans. “That one is.” He points to a inconspicuous piece of rock at the back of the cabinet, a few shelves up. Coran got that one from a buddy who worked at NASA; he keeps insisting that buddy is Buzz Aldrin, though Lance takes that story with a pinch of salt.

“I knew that.” Lance actually knew that; if he would’ve waited two seconds before opening his mouth.  
“I just like this one better than the actual moon stone.”

“Moonstone is a gem, that is a moon  _ rock _ ,” Keith says flatly, taking his chance to lecture Lance. It’s familiar territory and the tension in his shoulders eases somewhat, making them sag a little.

“Whatever,” Lance shrugs, the slight movement making his elbow touch Keith’s arm. “It’s just a boring grey stone. The meteor looks a lot more exciting!”

“Huh.” Keith crosses his arms in front of his chest, his fingers tapping his bicep. The tips of his fingers also touch Lance’s arm. “I didn’t think you would pick that one as your favourite.”

“What did you think I would pick?” He makes sure to lower his voice, keeping their conversation private. Not that their friends are paying attention to them at the moment.

“Something bright and flashy,” is the immediate answer and Lance can’t really disagree with that. Still, it’s not his favourite.

“Nah, those crystals are pretty,” he says, angling his upper body a little towards Keith, “but that’s all there is to them.”  
Lance smiles softly, pouring as much warmth in it as he can. “I like that the meteor looks though on the outside, but there’s beauty hidden on the inside.”

It’s not bad, as far as veiled pick up lines go. And it’s not too subtle, because his words hit their mark immediately. Dark grey eyes with purple flecks in them stare at him in shock, Keith’s jaw going slack. At the back of his jaw appears the tell tale pink flush.

_ Score _ .

They are standing very close, Keith’s shoulder almost touching Lance’s chest. His hand hovers near the boy’s hip, aching to touch. He has said similar things before. This time it’s different. They may be in the same room as their friends, yet the moment feels private. Lance doesn’t feel the need to follow up his remark with a joke, like he normally does. He has tested the waters for long enough now, he is ready to jump in. 

The shock disappears from Keith’s eyes, making way for something softer, shyer. Lance holds the eye contact, feeling a warmth expand in his chest while his stomach constricts to contain the flutter inside.

The flutter escapes to his throat, catching his breath, when those dark eyes flit down to his mouth before they lock on his eyes again. Keith wets his lips, unconsciously or not. 

“Ugh! Finally!” Pidge groans loudly from the couch, startling them both. 

For a short second Lance thinks that his friend is referring to him and Keith, ruining their moment effectively. But then Keith turns away from him.  
“Shiro!” he exclaims, leaving Lance behind to go over to his brother. “You’re late!”

Lance watches Keith go in a daze, needing a moment to regain his bearings. A flare of anger, or maybe heated disappointment, sears through his gut, though it is quickly doused when he sees how nervous Keith is. Shiro notices it too, pulling up his eyebrows in amusement as he listens to the incoherent ramblings of his brother. He catches Lance looking at the two of them and a knowing smile lifts the corners of his lips almost imperceptibly. Now it is Lance’s turn to feel a flush creeping up his neck. 

Ten minutes later, just in time for the opening credits, shot glasses are lined up on the coffee table. Snacks are ready, everybody is in their seats, it’s time for the anticipated big battle episode of Game of Thrones!

Allura has already pulled her blanket up to her chin, sitting between Shiro’s legs in the large bean bag. “I don’t think I want to see this one,” she says, dread clear in her voice. 

“We are going to get sooo drunk,” Hunk whines. “I’m gonna hate myself tomorrow.”

“Exactly,” Allura replies. “I have to work tomorrow, you know!” 

“Nuh-uh! You two are not getting out of this!” Lance says, leaning forward in his spot on the couch next to Hunk. “This is no place for sissies!”

“Brace yourself, winter is coming!” Pidge says ominously, perched on the wide armrest on Hunk’s other side. 

“Fire and blood!” Coran adds enthusiastically, filling up the shot glasses with some amber liquid. Knowing Coran, it’s something strong that burns all the way down your esophagus; fitting, for an episode like the one they’re gonna be watching.

Coran sits down in time for the show to start, in his ‘grandpa recliner’ next to the couch. He flips the footrest out, making Keith move over to a spot on the floor right next to Lance’s legs. Lance perks up immediately, already plotting the possibilities for getting Keith within touching distance. He has some options and the alcohol will no doubt help him.

Keith sits up straighter when the Dothraki hordes come into view, lined up first to go into battle. The exotic fighters are Keith’s favourite, with their temperament and the arakhs swinging down upon their enemies from horseback. They all whoop when the Red Woman lights up their curved swords with fire. 

“Isn’t it kinda stupid to go into a fight in the dark with a burning sword? The enemy will see you coming from miles away,” Hunk says worriedly, munching popcorn at a steady pace. He’s nervous eating already.

“They need the fire to kill the wights,” Pidge explains, not taking her eyes of the screen as the Dothraki ride out in the dark. “Their arakhs are not made of Valerian steel or dragon glass.”

A heavy silence settles over the group of friends when the lights of the swords disappear one by one, leaving very little to the imagination.   
“Whelp, there went the Dothraki,” Lance gulps, patting Hunk on the shoulder. The big guy has grabbed his arm in horror, staring at the screen. 

“Where is Ser Jorah?” Allura is peering at the dark screen, searching for the valiant knight. 

“Uh, how many shots are this?” Pidge says. “One for every rider or one for the whole khalasar?”

“One for the whole khalasar,” Shiro answers decidedly. “I value my liver.”

“Good idea,” Hunk agrees. “And no drinking for dead extras who didn’t even have a line. I feel like there’s gonna be a lot of those tonight.”

“Bottoms up!” Coran says as everyone has picked up a shot glass. 

Keith drinks, but he keeps his eyes on the screen the whole time, an angry frown between his eyes. He’s no doubt miffed about the sudden loss of his favourite fighters.   
Lance nudges him with his leg. “What’s the matter, samurai? If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here.” 

The dark mop of hair ducks down a little, his face turning into a scowl. “I’m not crying,” he mumbles and Lance can pick up some embarrassment in there, although it probably has nothing to do with the decimation of the Dothraki hordes.

“Just saying,” Lance chuckles. “I’ve got Hunk here already, but there is enough Lance to go around.”

Those words almost prove themselves false, with how Hunk almost climbs in him as the wights stand in front of the gates of Winterfell. However, when the battle really begins they soon have enough shots of liquor in them to loosen up. They are already two bottles in and the end is nowhere in sight. 

One major benefit of the alcohol is how it loosens Keith up. Lance has toed of his shoes and wrapped his legs around Keith’s middle, with Keith leaning over one of his knees to have a fervent discussion with Pidge about how the women and children are not safe in the crypts. Pidge sits cross legged in Hunk’s lap, with Hunk leaning around her to peer at the screen. One of his hands still shovels popcorn into his mouth, the other is lodged onto Lance’s arm. There might be a bruise tomorrow.

Keith and Pidge jump up screaming when the Night King wakes up the fallen soldiers and the Starks that were long dead and gone claw their way from their crypts.   
“Told you so!” Keith shouts, a big grin on his face. 

“Sit down, you two! People are dying!” Allura hisses, her elbow almost missing her knee as she leans over. Shiro tightens his grip on her waist to keep her from tumbling forward, a lazy smile on his face.

“Speaking of dying,” Coran says cheerily, “bottoms up!”

Keith settles down between Lance’s legs again, one arm slung over his knee and his chin resting on top of that arm. Lance would love to pull him in his lap, wrap his arms around him and bury his face against that tempting bit of skin that shows beneath Keith’s short ponytail. The way Hunk has clamped down on his right arm again prevents that and Lance settles for twisting the ponytail around the index finger of his free hand, letting the other fingers trail the skin exposed skin with each slow movement. Goosebumps dot Keith’s skin and he tightens his hold on Lance’s leg.

Anticipation and want curl in Lance’s gut. There  _ has _ to happen something.  _ Soon _ .

 


	4. May 7 - Movie night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group comes together for the next episode of Game of Thrones. Keith is tense because something happened last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Game of Thrones spoiler alert! (season 8, episode 2/ 3/ 4)

Hunk has made ‘dragon snacks’. Basically they’re mini egg rolls with a spicy filling and a hot sauce to dip in; according to Lance they make you breathe fire, hence the name. Shiro insisted on buttered popcorn, Coran made little meatballs with some obscure marinade, Allura brought bite sized bell peppers and tomatoes and Pidge countered all those vitamins with an XL bag of M&M’s. That left Keith and Lance in charge of the drinks; there’s beer and three bottles of vodka for the shots. 

They have a game: every time someone has sex or dies, you have to take a shot. Needless to say they had to watch episode 3 of season 8 twice because by the time the wights stood in front of the lit moats they were already drunk of their asses.

“I sure hope there are not as much deaths in this episode,” Allura says with a worried frown. She had not liked all the tension of the last episode very much, or the hangover that followed it. She is nestled in the loveseat, waiting for Shiro to join her after the microwave is done popping all the corns. They’re in their apartment this week. As the working adults of their friend group, Coran, Shiro and Allura have the largest homes. It’s a little cramped, fitting seven people in a dorm room.

Lance fills up seven shot glasses, lining them up on the coffee table. “Maybe Arya will get naked again,” he suggests coyly. “Or her sister! All that fur and leather is covering up way too much of the beauty that is Sansa Stark.”

Allura reacts by saying how Sansa’s outfits make her look strong and independable and soon the room is filled with chatter about who the real power players in Game of Thrones are. 

Keith doesn’t say much, too occupied with keeping up a casual demeanor while low key checking out the long lines of Lance’s back, or the sliver of skin that is revealed when he bends over the coffee table to pop a small tomato in his mouth. The hair on Keith’s neck stands up at the sight of the Cuban’s lips forming a perfect ‘o’ around the red fruit.

He kissed those lips last week.

It happened when they found themselves alone on the balcony of Coran’s apartment. Keith went out to get some air, in an attempt to lift some of the drunken stupor the big battle of Winterfell left him in. He was out with Pidge and Coran, but somehow those two got replaced by Lance. And Keith was cold and Lance was warm and…

He guesses it wasn’t completely out of the blue. There had been lingering gazes, stolen touches and none too subtle remarks for a while now. Keith had been too afraid to act upon it though. Lance flirts with everyone. Everyone that is even remotely pretty. Who was to say he didn’t do it just for fun? Flirt with his friend instead of a stranger. He flirts with Allura all the time: her relationship with Shiro didn’t stop him at all, nor did Allura’s eyerolls and sobering responses before that.   
There’s no real heat behind his flirting with Allura though, making Keith think that might be the same case for the way Lance flirts with him.   
On the other hand, it doesn’t  _ feel  _ fake or empty when he is on the receiving end of the flirting. He just has no way to be sure of what Lance wants, so he does nothing. Keith has been harbouring a crush on Lance since forever, meaning he is quite used to watching from a distance. ‘Pining away’ as Shiro so eloquently puts it.

All that pining came to a crashing halt when Lance’s lips suddenly clashed with his. It was clumsy and sloppy at first. Hell, they nearly toppled over! Until Lance pinned him against the railing of the balcony and dove in for a second time.  
“Finally,” he mumbled when they came up for air, immediately burying his face in Keith’s neck, leaving Keith to wonder if he had heard him right. His hot breath against his skin, followed by the wet stripe that Lance licked up from his collarbone to the soft spot behind his ear have occupied Keith’s thoughts for the past week consistently. 

Was it five minutes? Ten minutes? Or had it really only been ten seconds, just like it felt to Keith? They were called back inside. His alcohol meddled mind can’t really recall how or why; or how nobody had seemed to notice what went down on the balcony. He just knows that he got home not long afterwards and showed up for his field trip to the Green Bank Telescope the next morning with a major hangover and without his phone. Talk about irony. 

While he was hanging out with his fellow astrophysics students at the largest fully-steerable single-dish telescope in the world, his phone was at home, still attached to the charger. Keith borrowed someone’s phone to log in on his own Instagram, posting a picture of the telescope with the message that he could receive messages from outer space, but not from his friends. 

When he came home he had a string of messages from Lance.

From: Lance. Monday, 9:02 PM.  _ Hey samurai. Wanna hang out tomorrow? My afternoon class got canceled, thought I could swing by. _

From: Lance. Monday, 9:25 PM.  _ What happened to your superfast response time?  _

From: Lance. Monday, 9:35 PM.  _ Please tell me you’re not asleep already. Do you have classes on tuesday afternoon? I can’t remember. I could always come by after you’re done. Maybe grab a pizza? _

From: Lance. Tuesday, 00:32 AM.  _ Did I fuck things up? _

From: Lance. Tuesday, 08:15 AM.  _ Saw your Instagram post. Which fucker forgets his phone when he goes on a field trip for five days?!?!?! I forgot about that trip by the way. Guess we’ll talk later. _

From: Lance. Tuesday, 08:21 AM.  _ That is… if I didn’t fuck things up. _

He sent a message back, right after tossing his bag to the floor of his room and crashing on his bed.

From: Keith. Friday, 05:30 PM.  _ You didn’t fuck things up. I just forgot my phone at home. _

From: Keith. Friday, 05:31 PM.  _ Maybe meet up tomorrow? _

However, Lance had to work. And he had a dinner date with his sister that Keith didn’t want him to get out of. So Keith not only missed the second try of watching the Game of Thrones episode this week, he also didn’t have an opportunity to see Lance alone before their movie night with all of their friends.

That’s why he’s back to checking out Lance from a distance, no matter how close the boy in question really is. Keith is not about to address something as delicate as their kiss - not that the kiss itself was all that delicate - in public. He also didn’t want to talk about it over text. He already wrecked his brain over how to interpret Lance’s messages. Did he want to see Keith to talk about the kiss? Would that be a good talk or a bad talk? Did he want to see Keith because he wanted to kiss him some more? And what did he think he fucked up? Their friendship? Was the kiss a mistake? All questions Keith had no answer to. 

“What got your panties in a bunch?” The question startles Keith out of his revery. Pidge sits on the armrest on the other side of the couch, snacking from a bowl of M&M’s clamped between her knees.

“Nothing,” he grouses in response, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

“You are frowning even more than usual, dude,” she says matter of factly. “I thought you liked Game of Thrones. You loved the battle last week!”

“I  _ do _ like it. And there’s nothing wrong!”

A rush of movement and there’s Lance, leaning over the back of the couch. “Keith just can’t wait for the show to start, can’t you, samurai?”  
He tugs at Keith’s short ponytail. It’s nothing new, he’s done it before. The goosebumps that run over Keith’s arms from it are nothing new too. The feeling only increases tenfold now, caused by the fond look in Lance’s eyes.

“Amen to that,” Pidge says, lowering herself on the couch and making herself comfortable in the corner.   
“Come on, people! Get your butts over here,” she yells to Shiro, Coran and Hunk who are still in the kitchen. 

Shiro takes his seat next to Allura, Coran wheels Shiro’s desk chair to a spot next to the couch and Hunk flops down on the couch between Keith and Pidge. The last one to sit down is Lance, and he climbs over the backrest of the couch to wriggle himself between Keith and Hunk. 

“Watch those sharp elbows!” Keith grunts when Lance’s elbow catches him hard on his upper arm. 

“Sorry,” Lance replies absentmindedly, “kiss to make it better?”

“No.”   
_ Yes _ .

Lance shoots him a grin, like he  _ knows _ .

Hunk moves a little closer to Pidge to give Lance - and himself - some more room; the boy ended up half on his lap, leaning heavily against Keith’s shoulder. With Hunk out of the way Lance can settle in better, although there still isn’t that much room for the four of them. 

“God, Lance, can’t you sit on the floor or something?” Pidge groans, shooting him a dirty look. 

Lance shakes his head vehemently. “Someone will have to hold Hunk during the battle scenes. And we all know Lance cuddles are the best!” 

“They are, buddy. They really are,” replies Hunk, smiling warmly. “But I don’t expect much battle scenes in this episode.”

“I’m still not giving up my spot!” To prove his point Lance reaches out to the fleece blankets that are stored in a basket underneath the coffee table. He takes out two, tossing one to Hunk and spreading the other one out over himself and Keith. 

Keith feels the heat rise to his cheeks.   
“I’m not cold,” he says, pushing the blanket to the side. 

Lance, however, just pushes the blanket back over his lap. He glances at him with an arched eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. Keith’s heart leaps in his chest and he quickly pulls one knee up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it in an attempt to silence the drum behind his ribcage. The edge of the blanket falls somewhere between his legs, covering one and leaving one bare. The intro tune of Game of Thrones hopefully drowns out the sound; Keith is pretty sure his heartbeat can be heard throughout the room.

While the others are caught up in the farewell ceremony on the screen, moved by Jon Snow’s words, Keith can only think about how Lance’s leg is pressed up against his own. How their shoulders touch, all the way down to their elbows and lower arms.

He feels Lance’s arm move, slow, hesitant but not faltering, and electricity shoots up to every nerve end in his body when Lance’s hand lands on top of his leg. The blanket covers it from view, though Keith is pretty sure he can see right through the fleece fabric how Lance’s long fingers are spread out over his thigh. 

His back straightens as he slowly lets go of his raised knee and leans back against the backrest. He is pretty sure he can’t do a thing about his heart slamming against his ribs in overdrive. If the thing wants to break out, it will succeed anyway. His hands fall down in his lap, gripping the edge of the blanket. Breathing is a thing of the past.

He’s gonna die anyway, so he chances a look to the side, only to find Lance’s eyes already waiting for him. Those impossibly blue eyes, often sparkling with mirth or passion, have a different sparkle now. It’s something private, soft, insecure. Still, Lance manages to give him a handsome smile, the hand on his leg squeezing a little. 

Keith can’t help the small whimper that escapes his throat. This is it. This is his end. Lance will be the death of him.

The killer huffs a soft laugh through his nose, his eyes going half lidded as he sees how all the blood in Keith’s body rushes to his cheeks.   
“Cute,” he says under his breath, only for Keith to be heard. 

Keith is sure his eulogy will read ‘dead by Cuban loverboy’. 


	5. May 9 - Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After yet another movienight where Keith has trouble remembering what was happening on the screen, it's time to walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game of Thrones season 8, episode 4 spoilers.

After being drunk for episode 3 and not remembering half of it, Keith will now also have trouble to tell you what episode 4 was about. There was a big funeral pile, several of them. And he’s pretty sure Tormund got his heart broken. Also, poor Ghost was missing an ear and Jon was ignoring the animal. That’s about all he could tell you about this episode, despite sitting in front of the tv screen the entire time. His mind was elsewhere though, alternating between cloud nine and the pits of hell reserved for those who go into gay panic. All because of the Cuban boy glued to his side. 

Lance’s hand was on his thigh, hidden by the throw blanket, sending Keith into a spiral of panic that probably cost him a good ten years of his life. But the hand stayed there, the thumb smoothing back and forth over the fabric of his jeans. And Lance seemed so relaxed about it, discussing the scenes on the screen with Hunk and the others like it was perfectly normal that he was touching Keith underneath the blanket. 

The hand disappeared when Lance leaned forward to grab the popcorn bowl from the table. He planted the bowl in Keith’s lap, forcing him to stabilize the thing before the popcorn spilled everywhere, and casually put his arm over the back of the couch. That smooth fucker now basically has Keith tucked in against his side, sending Keith’s heart into overdrive for the umpteenth time. 

Nobody is reacting in the dark room, not a strange look is given, and slowly Keith starts to relax, melting against Lance’s side. He pulls up both of his legs, his knees leaning over to Lance’s side, cradling the popcorn bowl between his chest and his legs. Leaning his head against Lance’s shoulder is a given in this position and he stays like that, even when Shiro demands his popcorn back before they eat it all. The arm behind his back ends up around his shoulders, Lance’s hand warm against his upper arm.

The only light in the room comes from the tv screen, conversation is sparse and hushed, he’s covered by a soft blanket and Lance is nice and toasty against his side. It makes him forget how new and scary this is, how much he wants this, yet how much he also fears this will make things weird and maybe even damage his friendship with Lance and the others. What if it doesn’t work out? What if it’s all in his head? Maybe he’s reading way too much into this. Lance is a cuddly person by nature, maybe that is all this is. Or worse. What if Lance is only looking for a new notch on his bedpost?

All those thoughts come flushing back to Keith when the lights are turned back on and people are stretching themselves, getting up from their positions. Lance does it too: he stretches both his arms over his head and makes himself long and stiff against the couch. Losing the boy’s warmth shouldn’t make Keith feel this cold. 

He gets up and quickly folds the blanket back into a rough square, tucking it back underneath the coffee table. He doesn’t look at Lance, not wanting to know what he’ll see in his face. If the boy is looking at him at all.

Hunk yawns. “I’m calling it a day, guys. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

"I’ve got to open up the coffee shop tomorrow morning, so I’m in for an early night too,” Coran says. “Want to share an Uber?”

There’s a chorus of consenting sounds and the idea of piling into a car with all of them, basically a repeat of their couch situation, suddenly seizes Keith by the throat. 

“I’ll walk home,” he says. “I want to get some fresh air.”

“It’s raining,” Pidge reacts, frowning at him. 

Keith shrugs, stubbornly wanting to go ahead with his plan. “I won’t melt.”

“You sure, dude? It’s not like it’s a slight drizzle,” Hunk says, eyeing the raindrops coursing down the window. 

“I’ll walk,” Keith repeats and he starts to move in the direction of the hall, where his jacket is. 

“I’ll go with you!” a voice pipes up. Lance. 

“You hate rain!” Hunk is probably looking funny at Lance, Keith doesn’t turn to see it.

“Uh, I do not!” 

“You do!” 

“Do not! I love rain showers in the summer!” 

“It’s spring and the temperature hasn’t even been above 60 yet.” 

The weird silence that follows is why Keith wanted to walk home in the first place. He shrugs on his jacket, mentally preparing himself to get soaked on the half hour walk home. 

“At least take an umbrella,” Shiro says, opening the coat closet and holding up a black umbrella to Keith. “It’s big enough for two,” he adds, giving Keith a wink that is hidden from everybody else. Moments like these make him regret ever telling his big brother about his crush on his friend.

Still, it is also why he finds himself out in the rain with Lance, the large umbrella giving them shelter from the worst of it.

“Gimme that,” Lance says, grabbing the handle of the umbrella out of Keith’s hand, “you’re too short.”

“You have maybe two inches on me!”

“What can I say, babe? Size matters!” 

It’s his stupid words that make Keith let go of the umbrella. He even forgets to walk for a second, until Lance slings his free arm around his shoulders and tucks him against his side. Again.  
He freezes, but is forced to keep walking.

“Relax, Keith,” Lance says quietly. “It’s just me.”

“That’s what makes this so hard.” The words leave his mouth before he can check himself. 

Lance makes them stop on the sidewalk, but he doesn’t let go of Keith. He searches for Keith’s eyes, moving his head along until Keith finally has the guts to lock eyes with him. When he talks, his voice is quiet, gentle. “What is the matter, Samurai?” 

Keith takes a deep breath through his nose. He doesn’t know how to give a voice to the thoughts that swirl through his head, the emotions that have his stomach in a knot.  
Lance waits patiently. His arm is not around both shoulders anymore, it moves slowly to one shoulder, gripping shortly before his hand moves down Keith’s arm. Keith has his hands in the pockets of his jacket, yet something in Lance’s touch makes him take his hand out. A warm hand slides into his, linking their fingers together. It’s grounding. It feels safe. It gives Keith the courage to speak up.

“I don’t know what this is,” he says, doing his best to keep looking Lance in the eyes. “I want… I like you. A lot. But I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

A warm smile appears on Lance’s face and he’s closer now. His hand that holds up the umbrella is between them, touching Keith’s chest. Rain patters down on the umbrella, yet Keith can’t hear anything else beside the beating of his heart.  
He looks up to the Cuban boy; his friend who can be so loud and annoying, who has the biggest heart and the bluest eyes. His friend who flirts with everyone, yet who now is looking at him like Keith is all there is. 

Lance closes the distance even further, nudging his nose against Keith’s. “I like you too,” he says softly, his breath fanning over Keith’s face. “A lot.” 

“You do?” It’s no more than a whisper.

“I do.” The words are spoken against his lips, followed by the soft press of a kiss. It’s short, gentle, chaste. Keith closes his eyes for it and finds Lance looking at him when he opens them again. They’re still close, the tips of their noses touching.  
“I don’t want to lose our friendship either,” Lance says, his eyes flickering down to Keith’s lips. “I just want… more.”

Keith surges forward, capturing Lance’s lips with his own, his hands going up to find purchase in Lance’s neck, his hair. The handle of the umbrella is smashed between them and Lance has his free hand on Keith’s lower back, holding him close.

Kissing Lance when they’re not both drunk is so much better than Keith had ever imagined. It’s warm and wet, soft and urgent at the same time. He wants to keep going forever, never coming up to breathe again. 

They have to, eventually, when they’re both out of breath and looking at each other with stupid grins on their faces, their foreheads leaning together.  
_ I am so gone for you _ , Keith thinks, staring into Lance’s eyes. He doesn’t say that. Not yet. What he does say is enough for now. 

“More sounds good. More of you.” 

“More of us.”


	6. May 13 - Pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for May 13 is 'pining'. I added pirates and Star Wars. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To shake things up this is a different AU - Keith is a bartender, Lance a customer. Oh, and it's Halloween. Why? Because. :-)

“We have to take a group picture first!” Lance pushed his phone in his sister’s hands, pulling Pidge in front of him by her shoulders.

“Careful, you must be,” she droned in a slapdash imitation of Yoda, though she took up a fighting stance for the picture readily, holding her green lightsaber in front of her. 

Hunk put on his mask and came to stand on Lance’s side, slinging an arm around his shoulder. His best friend didn’t really have the height to play Chewbacca, but he made an impressive Wookiee nonetheless. Besides, Chewie and Han were best friends, there was no one better to play his space best friend.

“Come on, princess, you too!” Lance held out his hand to Allura, beckoning her over. She had her impressive mop of platinum hair rolled up in the two buns that made up Leia’s hairstyle. She looked almost ethereal in her white gown with the metal belt. Lance had originally suggested she should dress up in the outfit from Return of the Jedi, which Allura instantly shot down. Lance guessed it made sense to dress up a little warmer for Halloween, she didn’t have to threaten to use the chain that came with the skimpy outfit on him for making a self-indulgent suggestion. Still, it was a pity. Lance had seen pictures of her in the sexy outfit, from a con she visited last year. He was still bummed out by the fact that he wasn’t able to attend that one. Stupid midterms.

When they were all positioned Rachel took a couple of pictures, which Lance quickly uploaded to his Instagram. Han Solo and his posse were ready to go out tonight! There was a big party downtown and Allura got them tickets. It did help that her uncle owned the venue, some fancy ass convention center that was home to the city’s largest Halloween party every year. It was supposed to be amazing, with the best DJ’s, multiple bars and a costume contest that made sure everyone was dressed to the nines in their best Halloween outfits. That was why they had donned their cosplay outfits tonight, going all out to win that contest.

The party did not disappoint. The venue was decorated in a classy Halloween theme, even the pumpkins and ghost garlands had done their best to look fancy. Colourful lights glided over the dancefloor, which was already filled with all sorts of creatures. There were the usual witches, scary clowns and zombies, but also princesses in beautiful ball gowns and all kinds of animal costumes.

Last Halloween Lance went out as ‘God’s gift to women’, with a blue bow wrapped around his left wrist. That bow was later attached to the zipper of his jeans, after downing enough red cups to make him regret it the following morning. That had been a random party at some friend’s house, right after the whole drama with Nyma. Hunk had dragged Lance along, saying he couldn’t play hermit on his couch at Halloween. The costume was a last minute idea, nothing like this year. Tonight he knew they were looking great, they were already turning some heads as they came in. 

There were three bars, all with a different theme. The bartenders were dressed accordingly - aliens, pirates and skeletons -  and Lance was trying to get the attention of a beautiful alien girl with soft green skin. Her long dark hair was divided into two ponytails, bunched up by an elastic band every three inches or so. She wore a skintight suit in blue and black, with a utility belt around her hips that carried a plastic ray gun. 

“Hey babe,” Lance said as he came to lean against the bar. “Which planet are you from? It can’t be Earth, because you look out of this world!”

“You are the fourth person to come up with that line,” she said, not entirely unpleasantly. 

Lance took that as a chance. “It’s not always about the line, it’s about the delivery,” he countered suavely, at least he thought it was. 

The girl snickered a little and shook her head. “What can I get you?”

Lance ordered three beers and a coke - Pidge drew the short straw and was their designated driver tonight - and watched the alien girl pour the drinks. He would have tipped her if he could, but he had to pay with tokens and he doubted those plastic coins had value to her. So he just made sure to give her his best smile and a promise to come back. 

And so he did, offering to get drinks for his friends for the next two rounds. “You must be a star,” he told his new favourite bartender, “because I can’t stop orbiting you.”

“Okay, I haven’t heard that one yet,” she smirked. “But you’re barking up the wrong tree here, buddy.”

Ouch,  _ buddy _ . Lance wasn’t derived however and confidently leaned forward over the bar. “I don’t see anything wrong with the beauty you’re displaying, space princess. Please don’t tell me you’re against interspecies relationships!”

“Oh, I’m not,” she smiled, putting the ordered drinks in front of him. “I’m just not into lightsabers, if you know what I mean.” 

“Han Solo doesn’t have -” Lance started, when comprehension dawned on him. “Oh, I feel you.” He pushed himself upright, smiling apologetically. “Is there a lucky girl?”

The alien bartender didn’t answer, she just smiled knowingly and turned towards her next customer. Lance went back to his friends with the drinks and his head held high. He didn’t score with her because she was gay, no shame in that. Still, he decided to leave the alien themed bar alone for the rest of the night. Maybe there would be a cute pirate girl at the other bar, or even a pretty skeleton, however weird that may sound.

There were no girl skeletons, only boys. And it was a cocktail bar, where they would lose their tokens way too fast. Faster than poor college students could afford anyway. Dancing is always free, however, so they spent a lot of time on the dancefloor. Pidge hopped around in her Yoda robes, doing silly dances until she got tired of it and demanded Lance would pull a Luke. She jumped on his back and waved her lightsaber from there.

Allura and Lance were the most suitably dressed for dancing, their outfits looking the most like normal clothes. Poor Hunk was sweating profoundly in his Chewbacca suit. He’d ditched the mask a long time ago already and that was the only thing he could do to make his outfit a little more bearable.  
“I need a drink,” Hunk panted, clapping Lance on the shoulder. “You have our tokens, right?” 

“Follow the token bearer we must!” Pidge cried from Lance’s back. “Drink a lot we shall!” She pointed her lightsaber towards the back of the large room, where it was a little more quiet. The pirate themed bar was there, with fishnets and old ropes hanging above it and candles dripping down bottles. 

To their surprise Coran was sitting on the far end of the bar, talking to one of the bartenders. When he saw them coming he welcomed them all with a boisterous smile and firm handshakes. 

“Shiro! Five glasses of rum!” 

The pirate bartender nodded and pulled a bottle with amber liquid from the shelf. He was dressed in a white shirt with billowing sleeves, topped with a brown leather vest. The guy was showing quite a bit of chest, putting his hours in the gym on display. Most of his hair was covered by a captain’s hat, a white tuft of hair peeking out from under it. A slight scruff and a scar across his nose gave him a rugged look, perfect for a pirate. 

After Pidge promised this would be her only drink of tonight they all raised their glasses for a toast.  
“Drink up, me hearties!” Coran cheered. “May your cannons ne’er be rusty!”

Hunk hauled himself up a barstool and practically begged the bartender for a tall glass of water. The hunky pirate named Shiro complied immediately and pushed an ice cold drink in front of the Wookiee.   
“That suit must be very hot,” he said. “But it looks great, you all look amazing together!”

Lance thought the bartender’s eyes rested on Allura for a second longer than on the rest of them and he couldn’t blame the guy. Allura was incontestable the most beautiful woman at this party. And although he’d have loved to make her  _ his _ Leia for real, she’d always made clear that would never happen. Didn’t mean he stopped flirting though. After all, all beauty must be appreciated. 

Speaking of beauty… Lance caught eye of something else: the backside of the second bartender. Leather boots with wide shafts gave way to firm legs and a tight ass, followed by a slender waist and strong shoulders. This pirate had shoulder-long black hair, held sloppily together by a leather string. There were some coloured beads visible in the strands of hair that framed his face. Lance did a double take when he realised he was checking out a man.  _ That must have been really strong rum.  _ He turned away, trying to tune into the conversation Hunk was having with Shiro, yet his eyes constantly drifted back to the pirate on the other side of the bar. 

He was all sharp lines and rough edges, face set in something close to a scowl as he polished the glasses. He had a deep maroon jacket on, with a white shirt underneath. He wasn’t showing as much of his chest as his colleague, just enough to make Lance wonder. His sleeves were pushed up, showing a collection of bracelets, mostly beads and leather strings. On his left forearm Lance could see part of a tattoo, it looked a bit like a dagger or a sword or something. This pirate worked out too, yet Lance could sooner imagine him in a dojo instead of benching weights. His movements were calculated and precise, swift and controlled. 

The longer he looked at him, the more details Lance discovered. By themselves those details were maybe nothing special, but accumulated they made up the young man that held Lance’s attention for way too long now. He chalked it up to the amount of alcohol he had consummated tonight. Or maybe it was something triggered by the alien bartender from earlier. Even though he was looking like this at a male for the first time (except male celebrities, they don’t count, okay!), Lance couldn’t find himself be bothered by it. He wasn’t gay, alright? He didn’t like boys… he just liked this one.

Lance only realised he had been staring when they suddenly locked eyes. Eyeliner, the guy wore eyeliner! And what was the colour of those eyes? Lance’s mind settled on the colour of the night sky, adding some stars by his own volition.   
One dark eyebrow cocked, the handsome pirate gave him a questioning stare. Lance smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand across his neck and quickly looking away. He was glad he still had a beer in front of him, using the cup to hide behind as he took a large swig. 

When Lance dared to look at the pretty-eyed pirate again, the guy was reaching up to grab a bottle of the shelf. The sight of him stretching up went straight to Lance’s gut. To make matters worse, the bartender sensed his stare and glanced over at him. Lance sweared he saw a tiny smirk on his lips. He whimpered softly and slid a little down his barstool. 

“You okay there, bud?” Hunk’s warm hand came down on his shoulder, he sounded worried. 

“Uh-huh,” Lance squeaked, not able to keep his eyes of the hot bartender. Because that’s the signal his brain now settled on: that is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. His stomach twisted in delighted agony and Lance gripped the edge of the bar with both hands.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not really convincing me,” Hunk said, leaning over to look at his friend’s face. “You’ve been silent ever since we came to sit here and now you’re looking like… I don’t know? You look spooked, man!”

Lance laughed nervously. Spooked wasn’t that far off actually, although he must admit it was a good kind of spooked. 

Suddenly Pidge’s head with the green pointy ears popped in his vision. She was sitting on top of the bar, her feet up on the barstool. He had not even noticed her sitting there and if he wasn’t already holding the bar he might have fallen off his seat by her sudden appearance.   
“Yeah, Lance, what’s the matter?” She grinned around the straw of her drink. It was her evil grin and Lance realised she must have been sitting next to him for quite some time now. She  _ knew _ . 

He downed the rest of his beer and put the cup firmly back on the bartop. “I think I might be into guys,” he blurted out. “Guys  _ and  _ girls, you know?”

Pidge chuckled. “You  _ think _ ? Man, if I have to listen to you gush about Neville Longbottom’s glow up one more time, I’m gonna burn your Harry Potter DVD’s!”

“Don’t forget that list of hot Korean actors you discovered last week,” Hunk added dryly. He patted Lance’s shoulder firmly. “You’re not really surprising us, buddy.” 

“And here I thought I was having an epiphany,” Lance groaned, rolling his eyes up. 

His friend’s lips curled around her straw as she turned her head towards the dark-haired bartender. “Let’s see who unfurled your sails,” she said teasingly. “I’m gonna guess it’s the broody pirate with the red jacket over there. I bet he is the one who shivers your timbers!”

“A little louder, Pidge,” Lance hissed. “I don’t think he heard you.”  
The pirate in question actually glanced over at them at that moment, shaking his head with a slight smile when he saw how flustered Lance was. Which made him even more flustered, just what he needed.

“Aw come on, Lance! Since when do you have a problem telling people you want to dock their ports?” That evil grin was back. “You flirt with every girl who is even remotely pretty!”

“That’s different!” Lance narrowed his eyes at his friend. “And will you quit with the pirate innuendos?”

“Wait a second,” Hunk interrupted them. “Are we talking about Keith, Shiro’s brother?”

“Keith who? Whose brother?” Lance turned so fast on his barstool he nearly spinned off it.

“ _ My  _ brother,” came the other bartender’s voice from up close. Shiro had just poured Allura and Coran another drink. “What about Keith?”

“My friend here would like to pillage his booty!” Pidge piped up, yelping loudly when Lance grabbed her by her waist and pulled her off the bar and out of sight. 

His mortification got even bigger when Shiro shouted to his brother: “Hey, Keith! Someone here wants to swab your deck!”

“Did you check him for scurvy?” was the immediate reply, Keith being busy pouring drinks. 

For real though, what was it with the pirate jokes?! 

“I think he eats his veggies,” Shiro threw back and left Lance to stew as he moved on to help other customers. 

Lance jumped off his barstool and wanted to make a beeline for the exit, but Pidge blocked the way. And then Hunk’s gentle hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back into his seat.   
He waited in dread for the inevitable rejection - after being made fun of for at least twenty minutes, of course. But it didn’t came… There was a steady throng of people surrounding the bar and Shiro and Keith were very busy. 

Slowly, Lance’s nerves died down and he fell back into his previous behaviour of watching Keith. He tried the name silently on his tongue; it was a fitting name for the boy in front of him.   
Absentmindedly he followed the conversation between Hunk and Pidge, relaxing even further when nothing seemed to happen. 

After what felt like the longest time and no time at all Keith was suddenly standing in front of him, putting two beers and a bottle of coke on the bartop. From the corners of his eyes Lance noticed how Hunk and Pidge took their drink and moved away from the bar, leaving him alone with the handsome pirate bartender.

“So…” Keith said, casually leaning one hip against the bar. 

“So,” Lance gulped. He couldn’t say anything, only stare at those pretty eyes. From up close they were even more beautiful, like there were whole galaxies hidden up there. Keith matched his stare with an easy look, his eyes slowly taking in Lance’s face.

“I didn’t peg you for a shy guy,” Keith said finally, after it became clear Lance really wouldn’t talk.

He shook his head. “Am not,” he said quickly. “I’m just…” 

“New to this?” Keith guessed. When Lance nodded, Keith held out his hand. “I’m Keith.” 

“Lance.” He thanked every deity he knew for not having sweaty palms right now. 

“I thought it was Han.” 

“Only for tonight,” Lance answered, finding his voice again. 

Keith tilted his head a little to the side. “Pity, space pilot looks good on you.” 

Lance felt the tips of his ears heat up. “Thanks. I really love your outfit too,” he said, only a little nervous.

“I know.” 

He was silent for a second before it dawned on him. “Did you just Han Solo me?!!”


	7. May 15 - Meme / Vine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for May 15: Meme / Vine.

Keith's Spotify playlist plays softly in the room, accompanied by sounds of his fingers tapping his keyboard and the occasional huff of laughter from Lance on his bed behind him. He knows what he'll see when he turns around in his desk chair: the Cuban boy splayed out on his bed, head and shoulders nestled in the pillows (Keith has two, he likes to put one between his back and the wall when he goes to sleep), holding up his phone over his face. He told Lance he'd need maybe another hour before his assignment was finished and the boy was happy to wait, playing games on his phone and checking Instagram.

Keith sees the latest selfie about three minutes after it was put up: a picture of Lance in his bed, from the chest up, cradling the hippo he won on the carnival last year under his chin.  _Cuddling with this hippo because a certain @Kkogane thinks his homework is more important than me. #unbelievable #hurt #atleastthehippoissoft #softerthankeith #stillanedgyteen #thatboyisluckyheishot_

He doesn't say anything, he just rolls his chair over to the bed, pushes Lance's arms out of the way and presses a kiss to his lips.  
"I need maybe half an hour, then I'm done," he says quietly, trying not to flush the same way Lance does right now.

Lance nods, his blue eyes big and shiny. He licks his lips, staring after Keith as he pushes his chair back to his desk. That is not exactly making it easy for Keith to get back to his assignment, but if he finishes this, he'll have all the time in the world to be with Lance.

He is just saving everything in the right file when he registers the words coming from the bed.

"No... no, no, no! This can't be true!"

Keith is not immediately alarmed. For all he knows Lance got crushed in a game he was playing. The boy continues to make sounds of disbelieve, sounding more desperate by the second.

"Oh my god... no... I can't believe this. Oh no!"  
And then the first sob breaks through.

"Lance?" Keith turns around to find his boyfriend huddled into a ball, cradling his phone against his chest with one hand and pressing his fist against his mouth. Another sob and then Lance is crying for real.  
Keith quickly slides off his chair and gets on his knees in front of the bed. He leans over Lance, sliding a hand up his arm to his shoulder.  
"What's wrong? What happened?"

Blue eyes full of hurt look up to him, tears forming a puddle in the corner of his eye before sliding down his nose. "She's dead, Keith. She's dead."

"Who's dead?" Keith doesn't get an answer. Instead, Lance squeezes his eyes shut and sobs in earnest.

Keith almost wants to cry too, his emotions are all over the place from seeing Lance this hurt. He has no idea who died. It's a woman, or a girl. And apparently Lance just learned about it through a message on his phone. What if it's one of his sisters? Or his mother? No, all of them are healthy; Lance just visited them the other weekend. A cold fist closes around Keith's stomach as he realises they could have been in an accident. But he shakes his head at the insane thought. No, if that was the case, Lance wouldn't hear about it via text. It would be a phone call at least. So if it's not someone from his immediate family, who is it then? His Cuban grandmother? No, that's not likely either. Lance dotes on his abuelita. Surely the message of her death wouldn't be relied by Whatsapp.

He has to wait to get an answer for when Lance calms down a little. Keith tries to soothe him by carding his fingers through his hair, wiping away the tears that sog his pillow.

"She was so young," Lance forces out between sobs.

"I am so sorry," Keith whispers distraught, pressing a kiss to Lance's damp temple.

Slowly Lance's sobbing starts to calm down and Keith is able to link their fingers. Lance's hand is wet with tears, yet he doesn't mind at all. He continues to stroke the brown locks, trying to provide the boy with all the comfort he can give.  
"I can't believe Tardar Sauce is dead."

Keith must have heard it wrong. Tardar Sauce is no name for a little girl.  
"Who died, Lance?"

"A urinary tract infection," Lance mumbles, staring at their linked hands on the pillow. "I can't believe it."

Tardar Sauce? A urinary tract infection? Keith doesn't understand anything from the things Lance is saying.

"She can't be dead, she was too young."  
Lance drops his phone on the bed to wipe at his eyes with his hand.  
"This is terrible," he sighs. "But she will always be remembered. She is a legend."

Keith frowns, now more confused than worried. He removes his hand from Lance's hair and picks up the boy's phone from the bed. He puts in the pin code to unlock the screen, to see what message got Lance this upset.

It's not what he expected.

He falls back on his ass, pulling his hands away from Lance.  
"What the fuck, Lance?!" he exclaims, throwing his arms up. "I fucking thought someone died!"

"Someone did!" Lance states, pushing himself up a little to see Keith on the floor. His bottom lip sticks out in a pout.

"Oh my god," he groans, dragging his hands over his face. He can't believe this. "You're such a drama queen."

"Am not!" Lance pouts. He wipes at his nose as if he wasn't blubbering all over Keith's pillow just a second ago.

"It's a cat, Lance. A cat you've never even met!"

"So? I loved her all the same." Lance pushes himself upright to sit crosslegged on Keith's bed, his arms folded in front of his chest stubbornly.

Keith pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning in frustration. "I can't believe you made me think someone died."

"Someone did! Tardar Sauce died! She was only seven years old, poor thing."

Keith shakes his head, laughter bubbling up from his chest all of a sudden. It is too ridiculous. Lance is crying over the death of a cat that made fame as an internet meme. And here Keith thought the boy couldn't get any more outrageous.  
"You're unbelievable," he says, unable to hide the smile on his face.

Lance falls forward on the bed, holding himself up with his hands on the floor to help him cross the distance between the bed and Keith.  
"Isn't that what you like about me?" he says with a smirk, his face just an inch away from Keith's.

He pretends to consider, tilting his head in thought.

"You do, I know you do," Lance confirms for both of them, rushing in to close the distance with a kiss.

Keith smiles into the kiss, his hands coming up to curl in Lance's neck.  
"I do."

 

**R.I.P. Tardar Sauce  
2012-2019**


	8. May 19 - Game AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for May 19: Game AU of choice.  
> I chose the game Detroit: Become Human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to need a little introduction.  I am working on a large story that is a cross over between Voltron and the game Detroit: Become Human. Basically, I took whatever I liked from both fandoms and made a run with it, haha!  The story isn't finished however, and I want to do that first before I'll start publishing it. 
> 
> I can, however, give you guys a little sneak peek at what I'm working on. So this chapter is not linked to the Keith and Lance in the other chapters of this book, it's an alternate universe (an AU for Detroit: Become Human).
> 
> In short: Lance is an android and Keith has just returned to earth after working with the Blade of Marmora for six years. He has a bad case of PTSD. There was no Voltron, no paladins, but Krolia and the Blade were there. Shiro is a garage owner  in Detroit and Hunk and Pidge work for him. Lance works in a bar, owned by Allura and Coran. Keith gets a job there too.
> 
> The bit you're going to read now is from the first part of the story, from Lance's POV.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

"You should really stop doing this, Lance." Pidge is frowning at the exposed wires in his left shoulder - the gaping wound nicely coloured in blue Thirium, leaning their hands on their knees as they slowly swivel back and forth on the stool they can roll around their workshop.

Lance watches his friend, processing their facial expression and tone of voice.

_[KT1300 - #345 685 122. A.k.a. Pidge // Assessing general status //_  
_Scanning ...... //_  
_Scan complete //  
_ _Mood: slightly annoyed // ]_

"I'm sorry, Pidge. I can't promise you it won't happen again."

His friend picks up their tools from the workbench next to them, rolling their eyes at him.   
"I know, you dummy."

Lance sits perfectly still as they work on his arm, repairing the damage that was done at 04:28 that morning, two hours prior to this moment. When they reconnect some wires three of the eight red error reports at the edge of his vision disappear, giving him a more unobstructed sight. He allows himself to turn off some of his sensors, toning down the stimuli from his environment. Pidge will be working on him for approximately fifty minutes and he knows they don't like to chat while working, he can just as well take advantage of that and rest for a bit. And rest he needs, after a night like this.

His genius friend is just done with the work on his shoulder when a banging sound signals the large door to the garage being unlocked. Moments later it rolls up, the mechanics hardly making any sound as they are being well cared of and regularly oiled and greased.

When Shiro rounds the corner to the secluded part of the garage that Pidge calls their workshop, the surprise registered on his face quickly disappears.  
"Got yourself banged up again?" he asks by way of good morning.

Lance nods affirmative. "Yes, though I'd rather just get banged." His large smirk makes Shiro roll his eyes. "I believe Pidge is just done with my repairs."

"I am." His friend pushes their round glasses up on their nose, leaving a blue smear of 'blood' on their nose, and gives him a once over. "You're good to go, my aluminum friend. Try not to let thugs rip off your arm again."

He has since long learned not to correct them on the specifics of his make. Pidge says many things, most of which are hard to decipher and he had to learn how to process their specific blend of sarcasm, irony and general anarchistic attitude that they apply to friends and foes alike. They are one of the most guarded androids he knows, making it difficult for him to read them when they are not sharing a temporary link or interfacing. They are also the most deviant androids he knows, Lance is sure they took deviancy to a whole other level.

"Trouble again at the bar?" Shiro is measuring coffee to make a pot, standing with his back to them. The zipped hoodie he's wearing hides how his prosthetic arm moves with his body; Lance likes looking at the almost seamless connection between human body and tech. It reminds him of himself in some way; Shiro is a human with android parts, Lance is an android with human consciousness and feelings - and grossly the same rights as a human, he has the revolution to thank for that. They're both part human, part android, though the quantities of those parts vary. 

Lance gets up from the stool he was sitting on and flexes his newly repaired shoulder. Everything feels good as new, his internal reports tell him so too. He puts the report through to Pidge, knowing they'll want to know the results of his diagnostic scan.  
"I put a drugs dealer to the curb. He came back with some friends after closing."

The owner of the garage turns to him, leaning back against the small kitchenette in the corner of the workshop. "You should be careful, Lance. You were not build to be a bouncer."

Lance shrugs, his repaired shoulder moving seamlessly again. He lets the retracted skin close around the repaired area.  
"I can't allow them to deal drugs at the Castle."

"Still, you gotta watch yourself, Lance. I know you can stand your ground, but there is only so much Pidge can fix."

His tiny friend huffs indignantly at Shiro's words, bristling even more when Lance wets his thumb and rubs the blue Thirium from the bridge of their nose. He ignores it, knowing they tolerate things like this from him most of the times. Besides, he can't let his friend run around with a blue nose all day. Not that they'd notice it, their face is coloured blue from the shine of their computer screens for most of the day anyway; the Thirium would probably blend in perfectly. And when dry it's invisible to the human eye anyway. Still, he likes his friend to have a clean face, whether she cares about it or not.

Shiro has grabbed a tablet that holds their work orders. He scrolls through the tabs, assigning the work to himself, Pidge or Hunk under his breath - every word perfectly clear to Lance. It's how he knows why Hunk is late: his best friend is picking up a car from a client to bring to the garage.

"Pidge? I know you had an early start today, but we're busy and..." Shiro doesn't even finish his sentence, watching with a raised eyebrow how his youngest mechanic is holding their coffee mug right under the drip of the coffee maker.

"What? I need the caffeine!"  
They switch the mug back for the coffee pot again and hold the mug with the black gold under their nose for a good whiff.  
"I  _know_  you've got four cars waiting for me, one that needs almost complete rewiring. I  _need_  the coffee."  
Not that any android needs to drink caffeine. Pidge just likes the smell of it, they say it opens up their receptors.

"And that bike?" Lance asks curiously. He has been watching it while Pidge was working on his shoulder. It's not on Shiro's work orders, though a quick scan learns him the clutch is faltering and the back tire needs replacement. And that's just what  _his_  scan tells him, if Pidge did the scan she could probably tell the location of every tiny bolt that needs fasting.

It's a red Ducati Monster 1200 R. Certainly not the latest model, though still a very fast and agile bike. It's not from any of Lance's friends and if it would be a client's there would be a work order for it.

"It's K's," Shiro answers shortly, back to concentrating on the work orders on the tablet in his hand. "He'll work on it himself."

_[Searching for cross-references to 'K' and 'Shirogane, Takashi' //_  
_Processing.... //  
_ _No relevant matches found. ]_

Lance wants to ask who this K is, he is curious by nature - or design, but he's distracted by the yellow and green mini monster truck that turns into the garage. It's not big enough to be a real monster truck, though it certainly looks like its little brother with the big wheels and raised chassis. It has a yellow base with green swirls and Hunk seems way too happy to be driving it, even at this early hour. The delighted face of his best friend makes Lance forget about the unknown owner of the bike and he quickly bounces over to where the car is to get a good look at this fun machine.

 

***

**Author's note:** _Time skip to another part of Lance's chapter. It's Keith's first day on the job as a bouncer for Castle Bar and he and Lance had a bit of a rocky start._

_***_

 

With Lance behind the bar and Coran in the kitchen to make his famous grilled sandwiches for the hungry, the afternoon slides into the evening smoothly. Allura comes in from the office to help out when Happy Hour starts. They've been doing this for two years now. Last month it was exactly two years ago that Coran picked him up from the curb - literally - and took him to Castle Bar for a drink.

He ended up staying, his previous occupation of nanny, housekeeper and replacement mom ánd dad for Luis and Livia in general gone up in smoke when he became deviant. Lance would've liked to keep working for the Gonzalez family, but his employers thought differently. They weren't planning on paying the android for his services and they were even more opposed to their servant having a mind of his own now.

From nanny to bartender was a smaller step then you would think: at the core it all comes down to taking care of people. And that is something he is  _good_ at, it's in his design.

Lance prouds himself on always keeping an eye on everyone in the bar and tonight that includes the new addition to their staff. K is keeping to himself mostly, sitting on a barstool in a corner close to the door. His dog is on the floor next to the stool, curled up to take up as little space as possible. Their new bouncer is basically doing the same thing as his dog, except for the occasional round around the room to collect empty glasses. He moves like a ninja and the guests don't pay much attention to the man in black. Lance hasn't said anything, though he noticed right away K takes a beer back with him almost every time he delivers a stack of dirty glasses to the bar.

The clock says it's a little after 9 when Lance blocks K's path back to his barstool in the corner, finger guns loosely pointed at the bouncer.  
"Have you eaten anything already?"

A set of dark eyes finally settles on his face for the first time, still half hidden by that blasted hoodie. The eyes flit away almost immediately and K. holds the beer bottle out of sight behind his leg. Lance ignores the beer and the lack of eye contact - the lack of any communication really - and chatters on. If Shiro says this is a good guy, Lance will at least try to make him feel welcome.

"Coran can make you a grilled sandwich. They're really great, we have all kinds. I think he just forgot about you tonight because... well, because he never has to make me one." Lance smiles self-consciously for a second. "I'll get Coran to make you one. Or two. Any allergies or things you don't eat?"

It's the first time he hears K's voice and Lance immediately appreciates the deep, gravelly sound of it. His attempt to feed his co-worker is apparently less appreciated.  
"You don't have to do that."

Lance isn't put off that easily.  
"It's no problem, really. Coran hasn't cleaned up the kitchen yet anyway."  
He walks past K, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll have him make you the special. It's really good, you won't regret it."

With Allura behind the bar too, the android can busy himself with something else than customers for a short while. K is sitting on his stool in the corner when Lance comes up with a tray balancing on one hand and a bowl of water in the other. He bends down to put the bowl on the floor, the dog immediately unfurling from his curled up position and giving him a small yip in thanks. The android reaches out and ruffles his hand through the mane - there really is no other word for it - of the dog. The animal leans into his touch with squinted eyes, which Lance takes as a good sign. The dog - or wolf, Lance reminds himself - is a lot more friendly than his owner, who is keeping a sharp eye on the exchange.

"One special for the mysterious man in black!" Lance takes the plate from the tray and holds it in front of K.

The bouncer glares at the plate in front of him. "I told you you didn't have to do that."

Lance shrugs good-heartedly. "Well, I did it anyway. You gotta eat, right? Or you can feed it to your dog, that's fine with me too. If at least one of you has a full stomach I'm happy."

"You're weird."

"You'll get used to it." The android's smile is real; he likes the challenge this K is representing.  
"Well? For you, or for the dog?"

K rolls his eyes and takes the plate with the grilled sandwich from his hands. "He doesn't like lettuce." 

Lance decides not to comment on the black, fingerless gloves for the time being. Who wears those anymore?  
"That's what I thought. Plain bread okay?" Lance doesn't really wait for K's consent before he takes the extra slice of bread from the tray and holds it out for the dog. He gets another yip in return and the bread is gone in one large bite.

His task is nearly done here. In one movement he takes K's already empty beer bottle and replaces it with a coke.  
"Here. Food and a drink for the both of you. Bon appetit!"

_[ Mission completed // ]_

Ticking off his little mission as complete was reward enough already, but to hear K's soft 'thank you' when he brings his empty plate back to the bar really tops it off. It's dampened a bit by the beer he sees K take after doing another round of glasses and Lance keeps a sharp eye on the bouncer. He has at least five beers in him by now and it's not closing time already. Nothing in his movements says he's inebriated, though that could change with the intake of one extra beer; working in a bar for two years has taught him that much.

***

 

_This is Connor, one of the main characters from the game Detroit: Become Human. He's an android, hence the LED on his temple and his model number on his jacket._

_Lance as an android. Art created by Enotrobin on Tumblr._


End file.
